Mistaken Memory
by Kawayix
Summary: While cleaning his attic, Germany discovers something that reopens a long forgotten chapter of his life. N.Italy/Germany, Chibitalia/HolyRomanEmpire.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine. It is, however, an amazing series.

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**Mistaken Memory**

_Chapter 1_

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Germany stepped into the dusty attic armed with a wash-cloth, a feather-duster, and a scowl. It had been ages since he had set foot into this section of his house, and there was certainly enough dust to prove it.

Brow furrowing, he surveyed the various boxes and cloth-covered furniture, briefly wondering if there was anything salvageable among all this clutter. Well, he would find out, wouldn't he? He might as well get to work.

The next few hours were long and arduous as he sifted through boxes, cleaning away dust and grime. The farther he went into the room, the older the mementos he found got. Some things he was forced to get rid of just because of disrepair; others he did his best to scrub or dust clean, setting those items aside for later consideration.

Finally, in one of the musty old boxes toward the very back of the attic, he found something that rather surprised him: an old, cracked painting. Squinting in the dim light provided by the bulb hanging from the ceiling, he lifted it up, trying to identify it. It almost… looked familiar. Who had painted it? How old was this painting? Why had it been forgotten up here, instead of preserved and kept in the main part of the house?

The subject seemed to be a tiny girl, curled on the seat of a chair, fast asleep. The colors had long faded, but Germany could suddenly see them as they had once been: her hair, a soft reddish brown, her dress and bonnet a rich green and white. Light blue eyes stared at the painting, clouded in frustration as the Nation struggled to remember who exactly this girl was. She was… amazingly familiar. Something long forgotten made his chest ache.

Germany tucked the painting under his arm, abandoning his cleaning efforts for a moment. He returned downstairs, ignoring the startled stares of a few of his officials – ah, he probably should've taken off the handkerchief and apron he had donned to protect himself from dust and grime; it was too late now – and reentered his own room.

He set the painting up on his desk, propping it up against the wall. Stepping back, he examined it yet again. The strokes were childish, but not too bad in terms of skill. The painting had obviously been a result of a lot of time and careful effort. Although he didn't quite remember doing it himself, a part of him was positive that it was his own work. How strange.

Germany's memories of his childhood were blurry at best, abysmally vague at worst. The Thirty Years' War had devastated both his house and body, and his identity had crumbled in the chaotic aftermath that followed. It was only after that period of time – after he had been reunified into who he was today, Germany – that his memories picked up again with any sense of reliability.

Consequently, he honestly could not remember whether this painting was his or not. It was in his possession now, so of course he had to have acquired it somewhere, but as to who had painted it… he had only that gut feeling to assure him he was right about it being his own work.

So who was she? He remembered… remembered… nothing. She had been important to him, once, but now he could not even recall her name. Frustrated, Germany left the painting in his room and went to finish cleaning the attic. Maybe there were more clues to this young girl's identity hidden among the dank, dusty boxes.

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There was one other clue, if he could even call it that. Mortified, slack-jawed in shock, Germany stared down at the tattered old pair of girl's panties in his hand. What… what were these doing in his attic!?

Flushing, he set them aside and hastily finished sorting the last few boxes. There was a pile of objects waiting to be restored and maybe even sold, and then there were those that were irrevocably ruined. He called someone to deal with both groups, hiding the panties in his hand as he fled back to his room.

He placed the panties with the painting, certain that they belonged to the same girl, but as to why he would have them… Had she confessed her love to him? Germany flushed again at the very thought, doubly frustrated with his faulty memory. A girl had loved him, and he couldn't even remember her name! What sort of man did that make him?

Sighing, he went to shower, going to bed once he had finished. Hopefully the name would come to him, eventually, the longer he thought on it. He owed it to the girl to remember, so he could find her and apologize for his absence all these years.

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_The world seemed so much bigger, for some reason. Then again, he wasn't very big himself. Just give him time, however! He planned to be the biggest and best Nation of them all. _

_All he needed was her hand. If she agreed to join him, he could become the next Roman Empire. After all… he was the Holy Roman Empire, wasn't he? It was a name he had chosen for himself, but he was determined to earn it. All he needed was for her to stay by his side, and then he could do anything._

_He had to be the best, so that he could protect her from all the others. France, Spain, and everyone else… they picked on her. They stole pieces of her land. They bossed her around. It made him really angry, but he couldn't stop them. Not as he currently was. _

_But every time he tried to get her to join him, every time he asked, she would cry or run away. Was he really that scary? He wasn't trying to be. It was just that… he wasn't the best with people. And he loved her. So, maybe he did appear a little intimidating, but he didn't want to hurt her. _

_He just wanted to keep her safe and happy, so she never had to worry about anything ever again._

_Speaking of her, his angel, wasn't she over there, sweeping? Holy Roman Empire peered around the corner, feeling his chest tighten as his face heated up. She was so sweet… so graceful… so beautiful. He stared intensely, trying to commit everything about her to memory._

_She seemed to notice his regard and glanced up, whimpering nervously as she saw his expression. "H-Holy Roman Empire!" She clutched her little broom, fidgeting cutely. His face grew hotter. "I'm… I'm doing my chores, like I should…"_

_He wanted to go to her, to take her hand and ask her to stay with him forever. However, his knees locked and he just kept staring, heart fluttering in his chest. She squeaked with fright and ran off, much to his disappointment. Holy Roman Empire was only able to move after she was gone, slumping and letting out a sigh. He needed to stop being such a coward. How could he ever protect her, at this rate?_

_But he wanted to. She was the most important person in his world._

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Germany stared at the ceiling blankly, running his hand through his hair as he reflected on the dream. The scenario replayed in his head, closing his throat with emotion. That had been her. The girl in the painting. His painting of her.

And he had been… the Holy Roman Empire? Not Germany. Not exactly. His head ached, just like his heart. Hadn't he always been Germany? And that house in the dream – the memory? – it looked more like Austria's than his own. Had he lived with Austria?

Why couldn't he remember his childhood?

Frustrated anew, he climbed out of bed and got dressed, pausing only to style his hair into its typical look to erase the mussed bed-head he was sporting. Then he left his room, striding determinedly downstairs into his study.

He would call Austria and see if he could verify that part of the dream at least. If Germany had lived in his house as a child, then Austria also might know the identity of the girl Germany sought. She would be grown now, of course, but hopefully she would remember him. It was a selfish thing to wish for, considering he did not remember her himself, but he wished it all the same.

Unfortunately, as he picked up the phone to dial Austria's number, a dreaded voice floated down the corridor.

"Germaaaany~ Germaaaany~" Italy called out happily, weaving his way down the hall. "Germaaaany~"

The tall blond grit his teeth, hanging up the phone. This was the last thing he needed at the moment. Italy was nothing but an annoyance. Normally, an annoyance he tolerated – God knew why – but he wasn't in the mood for the pasta-lover's nonsense today.

The other Nation stuck his head into the room, beaming lazily. "Germaaany~" he laughed in sing-song. "Do you have any more wurst~?"

Germany growled softly. "Italy, I am busy right now. Can't you come back later?"

Italy blinked obliviously, tilting his head to one side slightly. "But Germany~ We're friends~" He continued on, babbling about pasta and how he liked being at Germany's house.

Something about the young man's vacant expression brought Germany's thoughts back to his dream. The girl… actually, now that he thought about it, she resembled Italy somewhat. A sudden flare of hope rose in his chest.

"Italy." He interrupted the brunet's pointless chatter.

"Ve~? Germany~?" Italy smiled brightly.

"Do you have a sister?" Germany knew that Italy had a brother, Romano, who periodically insisted on making himself a pain in Germany's side, but he had never thought to ask if Italy had any more siblings.

"A nee-chan~?" Italy paused in surprise. "Uh… I don't _think_ so. Not that I know of, anyway~"

Germany's heart sank. He had been so sure she was part of Italy's family… but if he didn't have a sister, maybe that meant…

Maybe she had perished in his absence, without him to protect her from all the other Nations.

Grief choked Germany, closing off his throat and tightening his chest. She was gone. He had failed to protect her. Hell, he had failed to even come back for her in time. He had forgotten all about her.

Devastated, he slowly left the room, walking numbly up the stairs toward his bedroom. Italy followed, flitting about behind him, worried and confused. He called Germany's name multiple times, but his efforts fell on deaf ears. Germany was too lost in his sadness to hear him.

He entered his bedroom, crossing to the painting. His shoulders shook ever so slightly, tears struggling to form past the barrier of his pride as he stood there, staring at only two mementos he had left of his childhood love.

"I promised…" Germany mumbled, hardly knowing what he was saying. "…that I would come back…"

"Germany?" Italy clung to the door, hesitant to intrude into the Nation's bedroom when he seemed so scary. Still, he was a friend, right? And that meant that if he was in a pinch, Italy had to help him out!

He stepped into the room, coming up behind Germany to get a look at just what had captivated his attention. Italy blinked, briefly confused by what he was seeing.

"Heeeeeeeey~!" he laughed. "Germany, why do you have a painting of me~? Where did you get it, anyway~?"

The tall blond froze.

"…A painting of you?" he repeated quietly, baffled.

"Yeah, yeah~!" Italy gestured to it, smiling widely. "I wore those types of clothes when I was little, ve~"

"So…" Germany's world turned upside down as he tried to understand this new information. "…this is you. You're sure."

"Ve, ve~" Italy tilted his head back and forth. "I know me, you know~?" He paused, blinking. "Are those a pair of my old panties~?" Germany wasn't listening. He was too busy processing this new development.

The person in the painting was Italy. Not a girl. His beautiful childhood love was the pasta-loving buffoon in front of him. Not a girl.

Red slowly spread over Germany's cheeks as Italy watched in awe. Flushing angrily, Germany grabbed Italy and proceeded to throw him out of his house. "You idiot!"

"Uwaaaaaa—!" Italy went flying, confused by this whole encounter.

After he was gone, Germany stood alone in his study, pressing his palm to his burning face, trying not to die of embarrassment.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine. It is, however, an amazing series.

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**Mistaken Memory**

_Chapter 2_

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_Holy Roman Empire peeked around the corner, blue eyes seeking the sweet face of Chibitalia. He had heard her going by his room, so he had snuck out to follow her. She had wandered outside, tiny hands clasped to her growling stomach._

"_I'm so hungry…" She sniffled, thoroughly unhappy. "I wish I had some pasta…"_

_Remembering the result of the last time he had tried to give her the food _he_ liked – she had thought it was disgusting, much to his chagrin – Holy Roman Empire crept away from the corner, soon running off to find one of the older Nations in their house._

_Asking Austria was a bad idea. He had already dismissed Chibitalia's cries for pasta countless times before, so Holy Roman Empire hardly thought that he would suddenly give in now. Hungary, however, had a kind heart. He often saw her playing with Chibitalia, or dressing her up in cute clothes. She might help him get some pasta, right?_

_He found her in her room, searching for something in her closet. Holy Roman Empire stood defiantly, waiting for her to notice him. She straightened, automatically smoothing down the waist of her dress as she glanced toward him, blinking in surprise._

"_Holy Roman Empire?" Hungary asked, curious. "Is something wrong?"_

"_I need pasta." He stood awkwardly, crossing his arms as he glared up at her._

"_Pasta?" She laughed, not having expected that answer. "Why do you need pasta?"_

_Holy Roman Empire just stared at her, refusing to answer._

_A knowing smile curved Hungary's lips. "All right then. I'll see what I can do. I'll drop it off at your room, okay?" _

_Holy Roman Empire gave her a jerky nod, throat tightening with gratitude as he ran off. He was soon outside again, poking his head around the corner. Chibitalia remained where he had left her, sniffling at the random animals that had joined her in his absence. Animals always seemed to pop up whenever Chibitalia ventured outside, probably drawn by her innocent purity. _

_At least, that was what Holy Roman Empire liked to think._

_He quietly snuck backward, rushing back to his room. Bursting inside, he quickly climbed onto his bed and latched onto his big pillow. He was so excited! Hungary would find some pasta, and then he could give it to Chibitalia and she would be so happy! Eager to see her delighted face, Holy Roman Empire buried his face into his pillow, smiling until his cheeks hurt._

_Not too long after, there was a knock on his door. Holy Roman Empire sprang off of his bed, standing as if he had never cuddled with his pillow. "Come in!" he called, still excited._

_Hungary entered his bedroom, a steaming plate of pasta in her hands. "Here you go, Holy Roman Empire!" She offered him the plate, winking gamely. "Tell me if it's good, huh?"_

_Holy Roman Empire took the plate, actually smiling at her before he caught himself. "Thank you, Hungary." He held the plate carefully, not wanting to spill any of the precious pasta. _

"_It's fine, really. You just run along now." She smiled kindly back at him._

_He nodded again, walking off at a cautious pace as he supported the hot plate between his hands. He returned outside, where Chibitalia was luckily still waiting._

"_Ve… ve…" she sniffled. "Paaasta…" Suddenly, her tears stopped and she sat up. "P-Pasta?" She sniffed the air hopefully._

_Holy Roman Empire moved toward her, boldly offering the dish. His gaze was intense, as it typically was when he regarded her, but there was a flutter of nervousness in his chest. What if she rejected it or had found food while he was away?_

"_Holy Roman Empire!" Her mouth formed a perfect little 'o' in shock. Then she began to drool, leaping to her feet and stumbling toward him as her stomach growled loudly. "P-Pasta!?"_

"_For you. Because, uh… you have to stay strong!" The young blond babbled, momentarily flustered as she drew up close. _

_Chibitalia began to sniffle again, taking the plate with surprisingly sturdy hands. "I-I'm so happy… pasta… pasta…" She plopped down right where she was, a gleeful little glutton._

_Holy Roman Empire sat down as well, watching as she gobbled the pasta. He stared at her intently, blushing slightly as she made happy noises and smiled brightly at him while she ate._

_Once she had finished, she giggled and tackled him. Hugging him happily, she babbled grateful nonsense about how pasta was delicious and he was amazing and she had thought she was going to die of hunger._

_Holy Roman Empire's face went bright red and, for a moment, he held her back, pressing his face against the soft hair that poked out from under her hat. Then his courage failed him, embarrassment flaring as he pulled away and fled. She was left sitting with the empty plate, calling after him in confusion._

_He returned to his room, locking the door behind him before jumping onto his bed again. He clutched his pillow happily, rolling back and forth as he expressed the joy he was too prideful to show to anyone else.  
_

"_I did it. I did it." He breathed, cheeks burning. "She even hugged me!"_

_Holy Roman Empire had never been happier._

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Germany had never been more miserable.

Ever since he had had that first dream involving the Holy Roman Empire and Chibitalia, he had been having more and more of them. The second dream came a few days or so after the first, and the third dream came the day after that. Ever since then, the dreams had shown up every time he dared to close his eyes. They were always different, but always familiar; every night, he relived a little more of the life he had forgotten.

The strain of his double-life left him with a near-constant migraine. If that wasn't bad enough, he almost always felt dizzy and light-headed. His emotions – which he had never had trouble controlling before – seemed twice as volatile, running unchecked. He was frightening some of his officials, he knew, and even his boss had paused in shock as Germany finally snapped at him.

This was even worse than puberty.

On top of everything else, he found himself following Italy around. Germany would resolve to stop, to ignore the pasta-loving idiot, but without fail he would end up poking his head around the nearest corner, staring at Italy intensely.

That was what he was doing even now, cursing himself under his breath as he watched Italy amble about. The other Nation had a canvas and paintbrush in hand; he seemed to be looking for something to paint. He was humming to himself, singing idly in Italian as he wandered.

"Ve, ve~" Italy knelt, happily, as a cat approached him. "Such a cute kitty~ Are you Germany's cat~?"

Germany really wished that Italy wouldn't make stalking him easier by hanging around his house so much.

"Maybe I can paint you, ve~?" Italy set aside his canvas and palette, picking up the cat to cuddle it. Germany felt his face burn at the cute sight, and he continued cursing himself for being an idiot. Italy was a man!

But he couldn't tear himself away.

'_I am hopeless. Completely hopeless.'_ Germany wanted to bang his head against the brick wall beside him. His head throbbed at the very thought, as if his migraine was warning him against doing so.

Perhaps sensing the intense aura Germany was putting off, Italy finally looked up in his direction. "Ve~? Germany~?" He blinked in surprise at seeing the blond Nation standing there. He smiled warmly, making a motion to move toward him.

Germany just glowered fiercely in response, and the brunet stopped, quivering nervously. He placed the kitten back on the ground, snatching up his canvas and palette as he ran off into the woods, squealing apologies as he fled.

Now would be the perfect time for Germany to simply turn around and go back inside.

He could find some paper work to do, or maybe give Japan a call and catch up on how the other Nation was doing politically and economically. There was no rule that said that he had to spend his day following around a pasta-loving idiot.

Unfortunately for him, love followed no rules.

Germany ground his teeth, swearing under his breath as he went after Italy. This time, as he watched the wandering brunet, his refuge was a tree. He poked his head out around the thick trunk, watching Italy – who had already seemed to have forgotten his encounter with Germany only a few moments before – laugh happily at a little bird perched on one of the lower branches of a tree.

Despite his irritation and shame, Germany's chest grew warm. He found himself almost smiling as Italy raised his hand, coaxing the bird to perch on his finger.

Of course, the bird eschewed his finger in favor of fluttering to his head. Italy froze, surprised, obviously not sure how to react to this new development. The little bird eyed the bobbing curl at the side of his head for a few moments, regarding it shrewdly. The bird snatched the curl in its beak, giving it a tug like it would a worm.

Italy shrieked, dropping his painting supplies as he flailed and cried. He fell to the forest floor and writhed uselessly, wailing as the bird pulled at his hair.

Germany strode forward without a thought, shooing the bird away with a snarled command and a firm scowl. The ferocity of his appearance was such that Italy was not comforted by his sudden arrival. He only cried louder, now clinging to Germany's leg and begging for the stronger Nation not to hurt him.

The blond flushed, struggling to push Italy off of his leg. "G-Get off!" he snapped, heart pounding.

"Waaaaaaa, Germaaaaany!" Italy sniffled pitifully and refused to let go. "Th-That bird was so scaaaary~!"

Giving up on removing the sniveling Italian, Germany just sighed, flushing angrily as he patted the top of the brunet's head. "It… It will be okay." He mumbled awkwardly. "It's gone now."

This was more the type of situation his young Holy Roman Empire self had expected when he saw that mouse running around. Germany had relived that day a few nights before, and he suddenly recalled quite clearly the end of that little escapade.

His face burned at the memory of the young Italy's lacy undergarments, and he struck out in protest, smacking Italy on the top of his head, making him wail anew.

"T-Toughen up!" Germany snapped, his cheeks reddening. "How can you ever expect to stand against other countries if a tiny bird makes you cower in fear!?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't hit me again! Waaaaaaa, Germaaaaaany!" Italy cried, releasing Germany's leg in order to cower in fear. Germany slapped his palm against his face in frustration, thoroughly fed up with the whole situation.

He was tired of these unpredictable emotions. He was tired of his sleep being ruined by dreams that portrayed themselves as memories. Most of all, he was tired of Italy being an idiot.

He wished that he had never found that painting.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine. It is, however, an amazing series.

A/N: I tried to be historically accurate, but it's a lot to read about and I was trying to get this out to you guys without too much delay. If I got things wrong – which I know I did – please just ignore it and give me a pat on the head for trying. xD;

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Mistaken Memory

Chapter 3

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_How had the war gone so nightmarishly wrong?_

_Originally, Holy Roman Empire had thought it was just a conflict within his house caused by religious dissent. He would go home, take care of it, and return to the side of his love, Chibitalia. Unfortunately, that line of events was never meant to be._

_What started out as a local revolt soon exploded as some of the other Nations took advantage of the situation, seeing it as the perfect chance to conquer his lands. Austria, Hungary, and Spain tried to help him, but the opposition was far more than they expected. France and England were actually on the same side, for once; Denmark and Sweden also fought against Holy Roman Empire and his allies. _

_He tried to win. He honestly did. He tried so hard because all he wanted to go back to Chibitalia. But as the fighting dragged on and on, more and more of his people died. Famine and disease weakened them even further. Villages were burned or pillaged, and the land itself was damaged by the countless battles that took place all over the Holy Roman Empire._

_It took a heavy toll on him, as well. His house was crumbling, his people turning on each other and dividing; he was losing, losing, losing, and god he just wanted to see her one last time—_

_Many of his people abandoned him. They fragmented, leaving him weak and powerless. _

_Was he dying? Chaos filled his head, making it hard to think. His body hurt so much. He couldn't see anything anymore. His body— his house—_

_Chibitalia. He wished she were beside him, and at the same time, he was strangely glad she wasn't._

_He was suddenly grateful that she had rejected his proposals. If she hadn't, she might have ended up dying along beside him. _

_Holy Roman Empire didn't want that. She was so happy, so pure; she didn't deserve to die here, alone on a battlefield. Or was he alone? He couldn't tell anymore. His world had faded into silence. _

_Better that she live without him. But… would she wait for him, even after he was gone? Would anyone tell her what happened? He hoped they did it kindly._

_He hadn't intended to break his promise to her._

_Chibitalia. He missed her so much. "I'll… love you…" He was vaguely conscious of his lips moving, although he heard no sound. "Always… Chibitalia…"_

_Even the chaos in his head was fading. Everything dropped away, leaving him to darkness._

_Holy Roman Empire remembered no more._

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Germany slowly opened his eyes, frowning softly, staring blearily at the ceiling. Was that it? Was that the end of Holy Roman Empire's life? Were these weeks of unpredictable emotions and restless sleep finally over?

He was relieved, naturally, but regret also tugged at his heart. Holy Roman Empire – it was still hard to reconcile that identity as his own – had truly loved little Chibitalia. However, knowing what he now knew, Holy Roman Empire had never returned to fulfill his promise to her… well, him.

That was sad, wasn't it? His unruly heart sure seemed to think so. Sighing, Germany let his head fall to the side, allowing his cheek to rest on his pillow.

"Ve~" Italy hummed contently, sleeping naked as always, curled up under the covers beside the strong blonde.

Germany yanked backward, spluttering in shock. "I-Italy!?" What was he doing here!? Germany had forbidden him from sneaking into his bed weeks ago, back when this dream mess had started. He had hoped to avoid the exact situation he was in now: heart pounding, face flushed, emotions running wild.

"Ve~ Germany~?" Italy lifted his head, smiling drowsily.

"What are you doing here!?" he snapped, struggling to calm himself.

"I was just worried about you, Germany~ I couldn't sleep, so I came to see if you were still awake, but you were crying in your sleep, and, and, we're friends, aren't we~? So I tried to wait for you to wake up to make sure you were okay, Germany, but then I got sleepy and—" Italy babbled sheepishly, obviously hoping the other Nation wouldn't hit him for the intrusion.

Crying in his sleep? Him? Anger temporarily turned into confusion as the blonde touched his own cheek, feeling the slick traces of tears. Ah. So he had been crying…

Instead of delivering the scolding smack that Italy seemed to expect, Germany awkwardly patted the brunet's shoulder in gratitude. His bare shoulder. Ack, he should have rethought that move; he flushed.

"…Thank you." He wasn't very good at these kinds of things. "But, uh… I'm all right. Why don't you go back home now?"

"B-But…" The pasta-lover pouted. "Switzerland already chased me with his gun when I came here… and he's scary, Germany~" Italy shivered at the memory.

"Go through Austria's lands instead." Germany frowned at him. "Why did you come past Switzerland's house if he keeps shooting at you?"

Italy paused. "Ve…" He laughed, ruefully. "I always forget I can do that~"

Germany sighed, aggravated, and Italy hastily got out of the bed. The blonde just barely averted his eyes in time; suddenly, the thought of seeing Italy naked made him feel flustered. Italy grabbed his discarded clothes from the floor so that he could redress.

"I hope Germany feels better soon~" Italy smiled warmly at him, and the heat in Germany's face increased. "I'll bring some pasta later to help, ve~?"

Germany nodded awkwardly, and Italy left. The blonde sighed once he had gone, slumping back onto his pillow. 'What a day…' It had barely begun, and he had already dealt with more than he felt like handling at the moment.

As he lay there, his thoughts inevitably returned to the dream. Holy Roman Empire… if Germany was truly him, then what had happened to him after that last memory? He couldn't have died; otherwise, Germany shouldn't have been sitting right where he was, thinking about it. He would be dead.

Did his own memories have a clue? Germany frowned, closing his eyes as he tried to remember.

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_Gradually, the darkness that enveloped his consciousness eased, allowing him to finally wake up._

_Blue eyes opened for the first time in years, and the teenager's brow furrowed slightly in confusion. Where… was he? He blinked, frowning unconsciously as he slowly sat up. _

_Suddenly, someone snorted, drawing his gaze. A young man was sprawled arrogantly in a chair beside the bed, watching him with bored red eyes. _

"_Geez, it took you long enough." He ran a hand through his gray hair, shooting a smirk at the youth. "I was starting to think you were gonna stay a useless lump forever."_

"…" _He merely stared at the older male, realizing that he somehow seemed vaguely familiar. "Who are you?" His mind was empty: no names, faces, or locations. He couldn't even remember— "Who am I?" The blond teenager wondered aloud, at a loss._

"_Me?" The young man laughed, sharply. "I can't believe you've forgotten. I'm your brother, idiot. The completely awesome and unbeatable Prussia! You should remember that, especially since I'm the only one who bothered to save your worthless ass." He flicked the youth on the nose, causing him to scowl._

"_As for who you are… you really don't remember anything?" Prussia waited for him to respond, red eyes calculating as the blonde slowly shook his head. "Huh. Weird. Well, maybe it's for the best! Not like you're really missing much in that thick head of yours, anyway." Snorting again, he sat forward in the chair, bracing his hands on his knees casually. "Who you are…"_

_The youth frowned at him, wondering why this 'brother' of his had to think about his name. Shouldn't he know it straight off, if they really were brothers? Prussia, almost as he if he sensed the blonde's suspicion, merely rolled his eyes. _

"_Our grandfather was Germania, you know. So, I guess, looking at it that way…" Prussia shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you would be Germany now. Good for you. I'm still better, so don't forget that."_

"_Germany?" He repeated, his frown only deepening. There wasn't anything wrong with the name… but then, there wasn't anything right about it either. Did it really matter if it was his name? It didn't change the fact his memory was still a blank slate. Sighing, he decided to trust Prussia. "I am Germany?"_

"_Yeah, yeah, you are." Warming up to the idea, Prussia smirked, obviously pleased with himself for being so awesome._

"_Did I have an accident?" Germany asked, still trying to figure out why his memory was gone._

"_You could say that." Prussia laughed ironically. "If you call losing a war an accident."_

"_I lost a war?" Germany's brow furrowed._

"_You were in a coma for a long while." The other merely shrugged again. "Near death, but not all the way there. Still, that degenerate aristocrat almost did you in."_

"_Who?" Germany disliked being so clueless, but there wasn't much he could do besides ask._

"_Austria." Prussia's eyes burned angrily. "After you fell, that sissy tried to keep everything together – only to lose to that idiot France. He just let your empire dissolve, but I fought to reunify it and bring you back. And I guess I succeeded, huh? Look who kicks ass, Austria! It definitely ain't you!" The gray-haired young man cackled triumphantly._

_Germany ignored the unsettling laughter, staring at his hands as he mulled over this new information. "I still can't remember anything…" He glanced up at Prussia again, unhappy about that fact. "Am I forgetting anything important?" His chest seemed oddly hollow, almost as if he had indeed lost something impor—_

_Prussia didn't even have to think about it; he replied immediately. "Naaah. Nothing that I can think of. What's important is now, anyway!" He smirked broadly. "Let's get some food in you, and then I'll start whipping you back into shape! Ha ha, being so awesome is such a burden, but I'll do you the favor of training you, since you're my brother and all." Still laughing arrogantly, he grabbed Germany by the arm and dragged him from the bed._

_Germany's legs were weak from disuse, and he collapsed almost as soon as his feet hit the floor. Prussia grunted in surprise as the youth flailed and grabbed onto him, clinging to him for balance._

"_You're so weak…" There was both amazement and disapproval in his voice. "Geez, you can't even stand by yourself?" Prussia blew out a frustrated breath, not having expected the extent of Germany's condition – although honestly, he should have. The last time the teenager had truly been active was back around the Thirty Years' War. Red eyes closed briefly in consideration as Germany clung to him, struggling to stand on his own. "Okay. See… this is how it's going to go."_

_Before Germany could move or protest, Prussia swept the youth's shaking legs out from under him and picked him up. The blonde yelped, spluttering in shock as Prussia carried him out of the room like a bride._

"_Wh-What're you—!?" Germany flushed angrily, arms locked around the older Nation's neck for balance._

"_What do you think I'm doing?" Prussia rolled his eyes. "I'm going to take care of you, idiot. That's what a big brother should do, right?" He laughed briefly, ignoring the strange looks he was gathering as he carried Germany out of the house and onto the street. "I'll take care of you until you can stand on your own, and then we'll kick ass together. The unbeatable brothers – east and west, together." He grinned as Germany glowered. "What, you don't like that idea? It'd make a totally awesome book."_

"_People are staring…" Germany grumbled under his breath as Prussia headed for the beer hall. _

"_Let them stare! Attention is good!" Prussia was way too cheerful for Germany's liking. Did he enjoy irritating the blonde? "Notoriety is always better than anonymity, West." _

"_You won't have any trouble getting that, I bet…" The teenager muttered under his breath, glaring at his smirking brother. And why had he suddenly been dubbed a direction?_

"_Nope! I have quite a reputation around here for being awesome." Prussia bragged triumphantly, pushing open the door to the beer hall with his shoulder. He strode in fearlessly, depositing the grumpy teenager in one of the seats by the bar. _

_Everyone went quiet, staring at the unexpected arrival – or, more accurately, his charge. Germany flushed, examining the wood grain of the bar with sullen determination._

_Prussia clapped a hand on his shoulder, smirking at everyone. "This is Germany, guys. He'll be around from now on. He's one of us!" The uneasy silence remained for a few moments longer, but then it dissolved. _

_Most of the people returned to their own conversations, while others approached to speak with Prussia and discuss young Germany. He remained where he was, awkwardly hunching his shoulders, while Prussia laughed at jokes, bragged about his awesomeness, and insulted Austria. Had his brother already forgotten about him? Germany scowled unhappily, wondering exactly what the point of this embarrassment was._

_Suddenly, a delicious smell hit his nose. Germany glanced up, startled, as a plate was put before him. A mug was set down beside it. The barkeeper smiled at him, briefly, before moving on. Germany looked at the food he had been offered, examining the wurst and potatoes in astonishment. The mug was filled with beer. Although he hadn't realized it until now, he really was very hungry. Thirsty, too. Eyes stinging with gratitude, Germany began to eat. _

_When he was finishing up, Prussia finally waved away the people he was talking to, taking a seat beside the young blonde. "Good, right?" He grinned as Germany nodded, face flushed. His head was pleasantly fuzzy, and he found himself smiling idly as he told Prussia he was ready to go home._

_Prussia rolled his eyes, snorting at how Germany was acting after so little alcohol. "Another thing I'm going to fix," he muttered to himself, more amused than actually annoyed. "We've got a lot to do, West." He said the last part almost fondly, obviously having decided to continue calling Germany that as a nickname. "I'll take you home now, if you want, but tomorrow I'll be kicking your ass out of bed early. You got that?" Prussia smirked._

_Germany nodded again, yawning slightly. After being unconscious for so long… it seemed odd that he could be so tired, but he was. He hardly protested as Prussia scooped him up, merely closing his eyes as the gray-haired young man carried him out of the beer hall. The walk back to the house was rather uneventful, characterized only by Prussia harassing Germany to keep him awake. Once he got back to the bedroom, however, he dumped Germany in the bed and wished him a good night._

"_Slip into another coma, though, and I'll kill you myself!" He laughed, not entirely joking._

_Prussia left, and Germany rested where his brother had left him, slowly drifting off to sleep. As his limbs filled with lead, a young brunette in a maid's outfit appeared briefly in his mind's eye. Concern filled her sweet face as she spoke to him, but no sound came from her lips. She stretched out her little hand, reaching for his._

_The blonde smiled slightly as he sank into oblivion._


End file.
